


Hawk in Love

by execution_empress



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Avengerskink, F/M, Hawk!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/execution_empress/pseuds/execution_empress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a hawk, now a man, Clint tries to express his feelings to Natasha through his hawk instincts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawk in Love

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank [Lovers_Reason](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovers_Reason/pseuds/Lovers_Reason) for beta-ing this for me.
> 
> This was done for the [avengerskink](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/7293.html?thread=13054077#t13054077) meme. I hope you all enjoy! ♥

“He’s the perfect spy,” Nick Fury tells his right-eye, Phil Coulson. Agent Coulson watches behind a two-way mirror as a man goes through an obstacle course and hits a bullseye in 12 different, mostly far away, targets. He can see his blue eyes are focused, his arms steady each time he makes the shot. He’s quick and precise. He quiet and stealthy. He can perch up in high places and stay there for long periods of time.

He’s the perfect marksman, the perfect sniper.

“He was originally a red-tailed hawk. Taken right in his prime. Never had a mate, so he won’t be distracted at all. His eyesight and instincts are still of his origin species,” Fury continues. “Project Hawkeye is highly classified. We were able to make him into a human and train him, so no one can tell he’s any different. Pretty successful, don’t you think?”

Coulson watches as the man stays still. It’s like he’s a statue. Whatever thoughts are swirling in his head, he has no clue. He’s just observing, like he’s waiting for prey to spring forward so he can attack.

And when a squirrel is released, it takes him less than ten seconds to nock an arrow, take aim, and shoot.

Coulson lets out a small, impressed whistle. Fury wears a proud smirk, knowing his question has been answered. With speed and accuracy like that, there is no room for loss or error. It reminds him to ask, “What mission will he be used on? You had to have created him for something in mind.”

“Operation Widow-Killer III,” he replies with a nod. “You know about the Black Widow. We’ve sent two of our best agents to go after the Black Widow and kill her. They’ve turned up dead. Now we’re trying something new.

“His name is Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye. He’s going to bring us the Black Widow, and he’s going to bring her back dead.”

Whenever Nick Fury is right, he’s very right.

\-----

Whenever Nick Fury is wrong, he’s very wrong.

Sitting at his desk, he stares at the paperwork in front of him. Coulson filled in most of it for him. All he has to do is sign it and it’ll all be set.

Black Widow would be a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Fury opens up a new package of tums and chews on three at once. He glares down at the papers, then up at Coulson, like he expects an answer.

Except Coulson doesn’t know how to answer him.

Coulson is calm as he asks, “What is it, boss?”

“Did he give a fucking reason? How’d the hell did he manage to get her to join S.H.I.E.L.D.? This makes no fucking sense!”

“And turning a hawk into a man does?” Fury’s glare is murderous, but he has a point. “Makes you wonder why she uses the name ‘Black Widow,’ doesn’t it?”

“No.”

“Well our hawk does. He doesn’t see her as a spider or a woman.”

Fury unwraps the package some more and pops two chewable pills into his mouth. He spits, “What the hell does he see her as then?”

\-----

He sees her as another hawk.

He goes on the mission. He watches and waits for her. He watches her from the roof as she charms her way around. She easily caught the eyes of her marks with a few words and some simple touches. She is beautiful, yes, but nothing that appeals to him. She is just another human, same as the others.

The only difference is he is sent to kill her.

He watches her for a while. He can’t kill her when there were witnesses around. He had to wait till she was alone. Then he’d take the shot and walk away. Black Widow would be dead and he would have completed his mission.

She slips away from everyone and no one seems to notice. She’s able to break into a room with monitors and wires all around. She slips something into a machine, gets what she wants, then takes it out. His eye narrows as he watched through the scope and he nocks an arrow. The timing was perfect.

Except it wasn’t. Five men barge into the room, guns in hand. Clint waits, knowing if he fires that he’ll be found and they’ll be after him next. He decides to wait instead, which is one of the best decisions he could have ever made. His eye widens and for the first time since he’s handled a bow, he finds that his steady arm is shaking. He wonders how it could be like this. He wonders how it could be true.

He wonders how he found another hawk.

The Black Widow is prepared for the men. She’s down and kicking the feet out from one of the men, knocking him down. As shots are fired she lunges towards one of the men in the center, maneuvering herself so easily around his body. She uses him as a shield, which prompts the other three men to stop firing. Holding her wrist out, some sort of gas is released, rendering him unconscious. She turns dark, focused, deadly eyes to the last two men. They hesitate, which leads to their downfall. Her wrist still out, she releases something which tazes one of the men. The other man is about to shoot, Clint can see his finger on the trigger, so he fires his arrow and hits the man’s shoulder. The Black Widow takes a small can from her belt and sprays him in the eyes. Wondering where the arrow came from, she looks out to the window, searching till she spots him. When their eyes meet, there’s something that hangs in the air.

The Black Widow knows she isn’t leaving with her old life.

Hawkeye knows he isn’t killing a new kindred spirit.

He uses a grappling arrow and she runs down the stairs. They meet in the alley way. She points her gun at him and he holds out his hand.

“Join S.H.I.E.L.D. Come on. You’re like me. We could use someone with skills like yours.”

She’s slightly confused but slightly interested, especially since no one had been able to catch her and actually let her go before. He’s as dangerous as she is. She doesn’t give him an answer. She tells him point blank, “I’m not lowering the gun,” as she takes his hand.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He sees her as his equal. He sees her as someone like him.

He wants her as his mate.

That’s what it feels like, but he’s never felt his heart speed up so much. He feels like flying, even though he lacks wings. He’s never felt his chest clench and his palms sweat. Was this something humans went through?

He decides to ask Coulson later about it. He’s certain, even if it means turning against the very people that made him, that he would follow her anywhere.

He just hopes she would really follow him back to S.H.I.E.L.D.

\-----

She really does follow him back and soon becomes a member of the very agency she was an enemy of. While most members of S.H.I.E.L.D. are wary of trusting her, there are only three that trust and talk with the former Russian spy: Maria Hill, Phil Coulson, and Clint Barton. (Oh sure, there’s Fury as well, but he has to trust her. She does work for him.)

Clint’s fine with this. It means less competition and a better chance to impress her. He is certain humans have courtships just as his (former) species do, but just how does it work? He doesn’t ask Hill or Coulson, instead he relies on instincts to take over.

He starts with the prey he hunts. He decides for a beautiful woman and fellow hawk, she deserves nothing but the best. He waits in cold weather, bundled in the bare necessity, and shoots down rabbits with fur as white as snow. He collects five for her, deciding that it was enough to feed her. He leaves the dead animals in a box in front of her S.H.I.E.L.D. appointed room.

She ends up making a scarf and ushanka from the pelts and used the meat to make rabbit stew for herself, Hill, Coulson, and himself.

He listens, though he’s internally pouting at the situation, at how she discovered what someone left for her as some sort of sick, cruel joke. She decides to turn the joke around and use it to her advantage. Hill nods and Coulson glances at Clint. At the end of the meal, Natasha gives Clint the ushanka.

“You’ve been stationed in such cold places lately. Here. It’s an _ushanka_. A hunter’s cap. It should keep your head warm.” He accepts it with a smile as his heart swells. So maybe he still has a chance after all.

Coulson later talks with Clint privately, telling him that dead animals aren’t the way to a woman’s heart. “If you’re going to impress her with food, at least stick with already-cooked food. Use fruit. Share a lunch or dinner with her. It helps to wear that hat too, just so she knows you like it.”

He then takes Coulson’s advice and tries to feed her as much as he can. He starts with breakfast, sharing his egg sandwich or his pancakes with her. At lunch, he has foccacia and lunch meat ready for her, with berries as a snack. He makes sure to have enough for the two of them to share as he sits next to her. When it’s time for dinner, he has two trays with enough food so they can each choose what they’d like.

Each time he tries, her eyebrow arches and she shakes her head, muttering that he is something of a _mudak._ This continues for two weeks, until she puts a stop to it.

When he sits next to her at breakfast, handing her an egg sandwich, she shakes her head and let out a frustrated sigh. “Why do you do this?” she asks. “Do you think I’m incapable of getting my own meal?”

“No, that’s not-”

“Is it because you think I’ll be suicidal because I switched sides? I’ll starve myself since I’m working for the enemy?”

“I never thought of that.”

“Then why? Why do you keep trying to feed me and make sure I eat?”

Clint is silent then. His cheeks are flushed and he desperately tries to think of an answer. What could he say? No lie would work and the truth sounds like some child’s outrageous tale. He was a hawk. He wanted to swoon her with food. Since rabbits didn’t work, he was told already cooked food was the next best thing. But it wasn’t.

Natasha notices the blush on his cheeks and his silence. She gently touches his shoulder, giving him a kind smile as she reassures him, “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. now and I do not regret it. You are my friend, Clint, and I owe you a debt for bringing me here. Do not worry. I’ll eat this time, but you don’t have to keep doing this.” She takes the other sandwich and bites down into it.

He isn’t heartbroken by her words. Rather, he’s touched with a renewed sense of determination. He smiles back at her. She doesn’t owe him anything. He wants it to be known, but he can’t put it in words. He touches her shoulder and gives it a squeeze, his fingers feeling like talons. The small gesture is just enough for them.

For now.

Since his instincts and Coulson have failed him, he finally turns to Hill to help him. Maria thinks for a moment, then helps him remember another instinct he has. “What about jewelry? Or something pretty? Something shiny? I remember hearing birds like shiny things; Maybe you can find something shiny and beautiful to impress her with.”

Clint decides it’s a good idea. He had to force himself to overlook anything shiny and of interest for his new body, his new life and mission, and now he was allowed to explore an old habit of his. He follows her advice as best as he can. He buys little shiny keychains whenever he was on a mission, with or without her. A reminder of where they once were. As much as she tries to refuse them, he won’t take them back. When she finally accepts, she calls him a sap and keeps them together on their own. He shines his bow and insists she holds it and tries it out. She rolls her eyes and humors him, taking the bow, snapping it open just as he would, and holding it in her small hands, positioned just as he would be. His heart swells at the sight, a grin on his face right before their eyes lock.

“What? Am I doing it wrong?” she asks. He shakes his head and motions for her to come closer. She does, ready to hand him back the bow, but he shakes his head again.

“No, no, not that. I was wondering if you’d like me to show you how to use it.” Natasha shakes her head, her lips curving up in a faint smile, though it looks more like a smirk. She returns his bow to its compact form, then gives it back to him. Her fingers brush against his hand and he feels a flutter in his stomach.

“Maybe some other time. We both don’t need callouses on our fingers.”

If being human means he can forever remember her touch, the slight upturn of her lips, and the hint of a giggle in her voice, then it was all worth the transformation.

As he notices more rewards with shiny objects, he continues. He polishes her guns and tweaks them with a whistle, though she teases him by calling him a suck-up. He doesn’t understand, but continues to do so anyway. He enjoys when she’s playful and bantering with him. It means she’s content.

Though keychains and weapons are shiny, they aren’t enough to win her over. He has dogtags, from when he was in training after being ‘born,’ and gives them to her. She doesn’t smile back. She looks at him, confused. As much as she tries to refuse, he won’t take them back.

“Why give me this though? Don’t you want someone else to have them? Don’t you want to keep them?”

“I want you to have them. I want you to keep them,” he replies. She doesn’t wear them. She tries giving them back again but he shakes his head. “Please. I insist. I want you to remember me.”

“Of course I’ll remember you,” she tells him, her voice raised a slight octave as if he’s gone mad. “You’re my best friend. I’ll never forget you.” He can see in her eyes that she means it. He can see her emotion, the strong gaze holding his. He saw what made him fall in love with her and he is reminded of what she is.

And just like that, he feels as if he’s defeated, left with a satisfying full ache in his chest.

She’s a hawk. She doesn’t look for love. She looks for the hunt, she looks for survival, and in between it means finding bits of happiness before it slips through her talons, or rather her fingers. Them finding each other was happenstance. Them being friends was meant to be. It’s enough for him knowing he found another hawk.

Though he hopes the ache in his chest will stop one day.

\-----

The ache doesn’t stop. At first it’s dull and easy to ignore, but as the days continue on, it grows more painful. His appetite decreases. He’s still an expert marksman, but he isn’t as vocal as he once was. He’s reduced to chirps and whistles. Everyone thinks he’s playing up his name. He’s Hawkeye. He’s nicknamed after a hawk. He’s just joking around. They don’t wonder like Maria or Phil and they don’t worry like Natasha.

When Natasha stops him and asks if he’s okay, he smiles and he lies, “I’m fine.” She doesn’t ask him anymore, because she can see the pain in his eyes. She plays with the idea that behind those blue sky eyes, he holds something deeper, and goes to find out for herself.

One night, he returns to his loft, though something seems amiss. He’s wary as he climbs up, trying to keep quiet, though his boots and human feet don’t leave much room for silence. They thud and stomp, a reminder of the clumsy body he has now. The feeling of caution is overturned as a whistle alerts him it’s not a foe waiting for him.

It’s Natasha.

As soon as he’s up, he sees her on the sofa, papers spread before her on the table. He doesn’t have much in his loft: television, dresser, a personalized nest-like bed, things like that. He doesn’t have a need for much. He starts to feel it isn’t enough since Natasha is there, but then he asks himself a question.

Why is she there anyway?

It’s like she can read his mind when she whistles and says, “Come here, pretty bird. We need to talk.” He’s enticed by her whistle, the way her lips purse and the high-pitched sound that follows, so he doesn’t need anymore convincing than that. He doesn’t realize the nickname she has given him till he’s sitting at her side and he can see what’s in front of her: His dossier.

There is sheet after sheet of notes on the experiments made on different animals. A hawk wasn’t a first choice, but it soon seemed the most logical. There are notebooks with the experimentation process and pictures of it all. There’s also a dossier on Natasha and a portfolio of plans; They have lists on where she would be most likely to strike next, the best plan of action to take, and so-on. Everything before their meeting is right there on his table and she’s read it all.

He swallows hard, glancing at her stoic face. “So you know.”

“I have heard rumors of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s desperation, of making men out of animals, but I did not know it was true. You’re their only half-successful experiment.”

“Half?” He raises an eyebrow. As far as he could tell, he was very human indeed.

Natasha smirks as she looks at him. “Half-successful, because you didn’t kill me like they wanted you to.” That makes sense to him. The one person he was sent to kill and he couldn’t even do that. His stomach sinks as he remembers the reason why.

“Is that why you broke in?” he asks. He’s still unsure as to how she got in, but he doesn’t care. He’d expect a fellow predator to be ruthless and determined. Natasha shakes her head at him.

“It was part of the reason why. I have a few questions for you.”

“A few questions?”

“Yes. One of them being why you didn’t kill me. You have no problem killing anyone else when we go on missions. Gender isn’t a problem. Neither is distance or accuracy. Why, out of everyone, did you spare me?” Her question is valid and he can’t lie to her. She can read right through him.

With a sigh, Clint confesses, “I was prepared to kill you. I was watching you. I had the shot. Everything was perfect. And then-”

“And then?”

“I saw you fight. You were then ambushed. I was prepared to shoot you afterwards, part of my plan, so I just watched. When you were fighting, it was like watching another hawk. Your moves are so strong and graceful, it’s like you’re in flight. Your eyes are so threatening and determined and menacing. I... I was, and still am, convinced you’re really a hawk that was also turned into a human. If not, then your whole being is like that of a hawk.”

He expects her to be offended, to look at him with disgust and ask just what the hell was wrong with him. He braced himself for the worst, but he was surprised by her faint smile and soft voice.

“A hawk? Really?” It was like she took it as a compliment. And she does. He nods and she laughs a bit. “I’m flattered. I’ve been told I’m as deadly as a spider, as the Black Widow,” hence her codename, “but I have never been compared as eloquently as you have done.”

His cheeks tint rose as he scratches the back of his head. “I- well, it’s true.”

“That answers one question,” she says. “I have more. I know it was you that gave me the dead rabbits.” His eyes widen, surprised at how she knew. “The way they were killed was efficient. It meant more meat and fur and less mess. Only a skilled marksman could do that. Why would you give me dead rabbits?”

“Well-”

“On that note, why did you keep feeding me? Morning, noon, and night, it was like you were always there. You even kept sharing your snacks with me. Was it because you had too much? Coulson should have taught you portion control.”

“It’s not that-”

“And then the keychains and the polishing! Everything was so shiny. I have heard that birds do like shiny things, but I didn’t expect such instincts to cross over. You even gave me your dogtags. Why?”

“Because- Well- I wanted you to be my mate!” The confession left on quivering lips. He couldn’t exactly hide it anymore. “I still do, actually.”

Natasha’s expression doesn’t change. Her voice is calm and steady as she repeats, “You want me to be your mate?” He nods again, watching as she’s in thought. She goes over his words in her mind, as his confession raises more questions to her. “Your files say that you don’t find attraction in human females. They picked an unmated red-tailed hawk just because he won’t be distracted by women. Has that changed?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m not distracted by women. I don’t have much attraction to them. It’s just- you won’t believe me when I say it.” She chuckles at that and he finds himself surprised.

“I’m talking to a man that was once a hawk and I won’t believe what you will say to me?” She gives him a warm smile, a welcoming smile, and he finds his cheeks heating up again. “Tell me. Do not be afraid.”

He nods at her and explains, “The files are right. I don’t have an attraction to human women. They’re beautiful in their own way, but nothing about them catches my eye. With you though, it’s like I said before; you’re a hawk. I can see it in how you carry yourself, how you fight, in your eyes. You’re more of a hawk than I can even describe and I fell in love with that.” Her eyes widen a bit and even he is hesitant after that. Love? He wants her to be his mate, but is this what humans called love?

“Everything I did - the rabbits, the food, the shiny things - that was all an attempt to win you over. I don’t know how to express myself in this body. I can’t do what I’d normally do, so I tried following my other instincts.” She nods, understanding his explanations, letting it all sink in. The more she mulls it over in her brain, the more sense it makes. She’s about to speak when he cuts her off.

“You don’t have to answer or be my mate. You called me your best friend. You trust me. Just knowing I have the respect and trust and friendship of another hawk is all I need. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” She giggles again and as sweet as her voice is to his ears, he can’t help the sting he feels in his heart.

“Clint, I wasn’t going to refuse,” she says. “I wanted to ask what your species would do to win over a mate?”

He feels his heart lift as he answers, “I’d fly around you.”

Natasha thinks for a moment. She should have known, as flight is most important to hawks. She looks at him up and down, examining as much of his body as she can. His arms and legs are strong. He’s not lithe, but he certainly seems nimble enough. When he walks, she doesn’t see him stumble or trip. He’s aigle. She has an idea.

She rises from the couch and offers him her hand. “You can still fly,” she tells him. He hesitates, confusion on his face, but she gives him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll show you. Trust me.”

Trust is the magic word for both of them. He takes her hand and stands, his legs feeling shaky for the first time in a long while. She coos, “Relax,” to him as she holds one of his hands. She sets his other hand at the small of her back while her hand sits at his shoulder. When they’re in the right positions, she looks up at him and she doesn’t even need to ask. Her eyes ask enough and he nods, letting her know he is ready.

“Good, now follow my lead.” She moves and he follows her, his feet clumsy at first. He’s unsure, but he soon understands. She’s dancing. He lets her lead as she steps gracefully around the room, with him following in hurried steps. The dance is awkward at first, but they soon move in tune with one another. She even compliments him with, “Not bad, not bad.” He smiles, looking down at her faint giggle, and notices the glint of metal around her neck.

“Are those-”

“Your dog tags?” She nods. He grins and squeezes her body to his as he twirls her around. She can’t help but laugh at his own attempt at dancing. “Hey! What was that for?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just- that made me really happy. I don’t know why. That just felt like I was flying through the air.” There’s a rosy hue to his cheeks and Natasha finds it adorable.

“Why don’t we find out together?” Surprised at her question, Clint can only nod. His cheeks are darker and Natasha’s giggles are louder. “There will be some things for you to learn about humans and ‘mating.’ Humans don’t usually call one another ‘mates.’”

Clint nods, understanding, as he was taught that, but it makes Natasha stop dancing. She reflects on what she says, then corrects herself. “There are ‘soulmates,’ but it’s a romantic notion. Not one I would use often.”

“Soulmates?”

“Yes. It means your soul and another’s soul were meant to be together, no matter what.”

Clint grins, liking the notion. “Like how our souls are hawks?” He twirls her around again and Natasha laughs at the spontaneity. “And we’re together now?”

“Hey! Did I say we’re together?” Clint waits with bated breath, his eyes wide, and Natasha rolls those olive green orbs. “We’re together. Your dancing- flying certainly impressed-” She can hardly speak as he captures her lips in a passionate kiss. His hands are pressed against her back as she cups his cheeks.

It’s a kiss of desire and joy, of need and satisfaction. When they finally break, he chirps softly and she whistles back breathlessly. He carries her to his nest of a bed and they kiss again and again, inhaling one another, making up for lost time.

It’s then that Clint knows that being human is right for him. His heart is flying as he holds her and feels her against him. She’s soft and supple, strong and perfect for him.

And in his arms she melts as well. It’s the first time in a long, long while (if ever at all) that she feels her heart soar above the clouds. She feels her chest swell, her body shiver, and her whole self desire for more than ever. If she truly is a hawk, she is his and he is hers.

Tangled together, lips smacked in kiss after kiss, they find home in each other. Their nest is one another’s heart.

And nothing can take that away.


End file.
